


sugar

by Moonberrycat



Category: LazyTown
Genre: Gen, Headcanon, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'm so tired, Trans Character, this is my first fanfic on here, what am I even doing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 02:42:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8827261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonberrycat/pseuds/Moonberrycat
Summary: or: robbie is trying to fall asleep and instead reflects upon his childhood





	

Like most nights, Robbie found himself draped across his soft orange chair. Of course, he _could_ sleep in a bed like a normal person, but that was assuming he was a normal person in the first place. He pressed the palms of his hands onto his eyes with a groan. It was 2 A.M. yet his mind was racing, bringing to light things that he would prefer to be left in the dark. Normally by this point he’d give up his attempt and brew some coffee--more creamer and sugar than anything--and tinker on some contraption or another. It was the only way to will his mind off his billowing thoughts during these nights. 

(he deserved it, though, and although the sweet coffee softened some of the blow it was also part of the punishment)

Tonight, he was far too exhausted to make an effort to move. As much as he wanted his mind silenced there was nothing that he could do. It was easier this way anyways, and easy is the choice that Robbie Rotten always chooses, right? (he tells himself this over and over and over in his head until he can't tell whether it's merely a forced mantra or the truth)

It was almost amusing; a painfully hilarious and irronic how despite how hard he has tried to run and hide from his childhood he still does things that brings it back into light. "Sugar and spice and everything nice; that's what good little girls are made of, Rebecca!" his mother would tell him everytime he played the mud or climbed trees and tore his dresses. The name she'd use was--and is--like a bullet to his chest, causing a wave and nauseua and anger to flood him. It felt like getting stabbed and burned alive and wrong on a molecular level but he so desperetly wanted to be a good little girl so he did the only thing he knew how to do.

(he figured he needed more sweets to be a good girl. it became a habit, almost an addiction, a punishment for his inability to be what he should have been)

He used to love to run--the sensation of flying over flat ground and seeing the world in a chaotic blur around him was so comforting. It took him away from questioning whether he's a boy or a girl or who he loves and left him with nothing but his heartbeat and breath. His mother scolded him, yelled at him for this activity. "Good girls cook and clean and sit still, Rebecca!" She would spat that name at him like it was a curse or a threat and it'd make him retreat away in fear.

(it's why he tinkers quietly away in his lair. it's not a feminine activity but he's talented and it's too enjoyable for him to admit he uses it to hide away)

Eventually sleep finds Robbie, catching him curled up and teary-eyed (boy's don't cry, that's what girl's do, that's what you're _supposed_ to do) and spares him of his misery until the sun shines through once again.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm so sorry for this garbage but i'm super dysphoric rn and robbie is my inner trainwreck so??? i might continue/add onto this maybe idk


End file.
